Time to Heal
by Ras1
Summary: SPOILERS At the end of Dead Man’s Chest Will is hurting physically and emotionally. This is a hurt comfort story to make him feel better. Will Elizabeth romance. SPOILERS


**Title**: Time to Heal

**Author:** Ras

**Rating:** T for Teen

**Summary:** Contains major SPOILERS for the movie! At the end of Dead Man's Chest, Will is really hurting physically and emotionally. This story deals with Will's feelings after seeing Elizabeth kiss Jack and with the aftermath of his physical injuries, including the whipping he received and his obvious concussion. This is a pure hurt/comfort story and is also Will/Elizabeth romance.

**Feedback:** Yes, please leave feedback. The more detail the better!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of its characters. This story is meant only to increase appreciation of the movie. No money is made. No legal infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Special thanks to my beta LadyKorana. Without her my grammar would be laughable and my characters would be flat.

Will Turner sat with the rest of the crew in Tia Dalma's shack. The mood in the room was somber, but Will was feeling particularly miserable. He tried hard to swallow down the rum in his glass. It was difficult, not because of the burning sensation drinking rum caused, but because of the large lump he felt in his throat every time he looked over at Elizabeth. The first glass of rum had seemed like a good idea. Will had hoped it would ease his pain. It hadn't. Somehow he felt even more depressed after drinking it. Then someone had suggested that they drink to Jack, so it was another glass. Will didn't want to be rude, even though drinking to Jack was the last thing he wanted to do. What he did really want to do was crawl into a bed and blackout. He was exhausted and in so much physical and emotional pain. He hadn't been able to sleep in days, not since leaving his father on the _Flying Dutchman_. His head was still throbbing from the strong blows that had knocked him unconscious, and the injuries on his back had yet to heal. The physical labor involved in running a ship along with the prolonged sword fight with Jack and Norrington had kept the wounds open and had pulled and strained most of his muscles. Will had continued to push himself though. He made himself keep going through the pain and exhaustion for Elizabeth. But then it had happened, the thing he was trying to erase from his mind with the glass of rum in front of him. He'd seen Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, kissing Jack.

Now he sat there, drinking with the rest of the crew, but he no longer even had the desire to keep breathing. Every time he looked over at Elizabeth his heart broke a little more. She was beautiful sitting there, even dirty from the sea and still dressed as a boy. He loved her so much, the thought of her no longer returning his love made him want to die right then and there. His large brown eyes started to get watery with tears as he watched her, but he couldn't break down—not here, not now, not in front of the crew. Will quickly looked down into his glass and let his brown locks cover his face, just in case any actual tears fell. He tried to focus and get his emotions in check, but he found that the rum coupled with his pounding headache made that quite a challenge. Will told himself that he just needed some sleep, that if he could actually get some rest, he would be able to think more clearly in the morning. He had no hope that this would actually work, but he was so exhausted that sleep was the only thing he could even contemplate doing. Will finally slammed back the end of his second drink. He looked around hoping he'd be able to politely excuse himself now. He didn't want anyone to think he was being disrespectful of Jack by being the first to retire, but he just couldn't keep himself up any longer.

"Excuse me, please," Will said softly as he rose. As he expected, he got a roar of disappointment from the crew. "Please, carry on in my absence. Have another drink to Jack. But, I am quite weary and in need of rest."

That seemed to appease them, all except for Elizabeth. As he walked by her, she brushed her hand along his arm and looked at him with concern. "Will . . ." she whispered, as if she wanted to say more.

He knew they needed to talk, but he was too tired and not ready to do it. "I'm just tired," he reassured her. He forced himself to give her a fake smile. He was relatively certain she could tell, but she lowered her arm and let him go anyway. Will headed for the staircase. They had decided to sail out toward the end of the world tomorrow morning. Tia Dalma said there were mats upstairs that they could sleep on for the evening. Reaching one of those mats and collapsing was Will's only goal.

Will staggered up the stairs, wincing with every step. Just the simple movement of going up the stairs pulled on the wounds on his back. His back had been killing him since he had received the whipping. He told himself that he was being childish; five lashes shouldn't really hurt that much. But, they did hurt; they never stopped hurting, even though it had been quite a while since he had received them. He had forced himself to never grimace with the pain, to move as if everything were perfectly normal, no matter how much it hurt. He hadn't wanted to let Jack or the rest of the crew know what he was subjected to on the _Flying Dutchman_. But now he was tired of keeping his stoic face on, tired of hiding his injuries, and tired of working through the pain.

Finally reaching the top of the stairs, Will stumbled toward the mat at the far back corner, as far away from everyone else as possible. The rum was hitting him harder than it should have, probably because he hadn't been able to force himself to eat much recently either. He lowered himself gently onto his hands and knees and then stretched himself out on his stomach. He normally slept on his back, but that was a complete impossibility. He tried to relax, to just collapse into sleep; but he quickly found himself gasping in pain. The muscles in his back were cramping terribly. Will wasn't sure if it was from emotional stress or from physical strain, but it hurt horribly. He moved his arms up above his head and tried to gently stretch the spasms away. Giving up on making them end, Will buried his head in his crossed arms and whimpered through the pain until eventually the spasms receded on their own.

Will closed his eyes and tried again to force himself to sleep, to let it all go and finally let his body rest. He couldn't, though. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Elizabeth kissing Jack. He just couldn't push the image from his head. It had been a passionate kiss, full open mouth. It made Will think of the first time she had kissed him. That kiss had been the most wonderful thing Will had ever experienced in his life. He hadn't been expecting it. He had proclaimed his love to Elizabeth, not because he expected her to return it, but because he had to tell her the truth before he got himself arrested or killed that day trying to save Jack. Was it possible that she had never really loved him at all? That she had simply stood by his side to save Jack? That she had loved Jack all along? That she had only chosen him after Jack escaped? Will couldn't believe that could be true. In the months he had courted her she had been so loving, so kind to him. They had been happy. Will knew Elizabeth loved him. They had truly been soulmates since the moment they met. Why then would she kiss Jack like that? Had something happened between the two of them while Will was on the _Flying Dutchman_? Surely they hadn't . . . she wouldn't have . . .

Will tried to force the thought from his mind. He would have to talk to Elizabeth about it in the morning. He wanted an honest relationship with her, and that meant he would have to speak openly about it with her. Will couldn't help running through conversation scenarios in his head, even as he tried to force himself to just stop thinking and sleep. If she said it was a mistake, that Jack had seduced her, that she still loved Will—of course he would forgive her. There was no question. He would love her forever and could forgive her for anything. But, if she said that she loved Jack—it would break his heart forever. He would have to let her go, though. He would do the honorable thing, namely help her save Jack and let them live happily ever after while he continued to love her from afar. He had spent the majority of his life loving her from a distance, knowing that they could never be together because he wasn't good enough for her. If she really did love Jack, could he go back to that now? Could he spend forever longing to be with her now that he knew what it felt like to have his arms around her? Again he tried to end the thoughts. He was so tired, he needed sleep, but still sleep would not come. He was about to give up and let the tears fall, maybe even cry himself to sleep. He hadn't had to do that since he was a lad, but it had always worked then.

"Will, are you asleep?" Will started. It was Elizabeth's voice. He had been so lost in his pain that he hadn't heard her come up the stairs. "We need to talk," she said.

Will didn't want to, but he couldn't exactly feign sleep after he had jumped so obviously. And, he couldn't say what he really wanted to say, which was "Please, can we talk tomorrow, so that I don't break down and cry in front of you when you tell me that you love Jack." He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and carefully rolled himself into a sitting position, ignoring the agony that movement caused in his back and the dizziness that simply sitting up brought. He tried to appear normal, but he instinctively wrapped his arms around his drawn up knees, which he was sure gave away his feelings of insecurity. He couldn't force himself to look her in the eye, either. It just hurt too much. He stared at the mat, focused on stopping any water from leaking from his eyes, and tried to find the right words to begin this conversation.

She started it for him. "I know you're upset about Jack, Will. We all are, but . . . you seem so distant," she said. "Are . . . are you mad at me?"

Will wanted to deny it and just pretend like everything was okay. Maybe he could even convince her to let him hold her for a while. That would make him feel better. But, he knew that wasn't the right thing to do. The truth had to come out, and they had to talk about it. As he continued to stare at the floor and try to come up with the right words, he realized that the silence had stretched a long time. He didn't want her to misunderstand. Despite what she had done, he was not angry with her. He loved her. He could see the silence was distressing her, so he said the only thing that came to mind. "I saw."

"You saw," she repeated slowly. "You saw . . ." and then she broke off. Now, she was staring at the floor as well, and the silence filled the room again. Will tried again to think of what the right way to talk about this was, but every question or phrase he could come up with made his throat clench closed. He knew if he actually vocalized any of his feelings, he'd end up crying, and he just didn't want to break down in front of her.

Eventually it was Elizabeth who again broke the silence. "I . . . I know it was wrong, Will. I regret it now. But, at the time . . . I didn't know what else to do."

Will tried to make her words make sense. He didn't know what she meant by 'didn't know what else to do,' but wrong and regret were words he wanted to hear. Still, he wondered if she was saying that solely to spare his feelings, or because again Jack was not around. He had to know the answer to the question he was too afraid to ask. He had to know the truth, even if it did break his heart. "Do you love him?" His voice was a shaky, nearly inaudible whisper, but he had said it. He forced himself to look her in the eye, even as a single tear slipped his guard and trickled down his cheek. "Please, just tell me the truth, Elizabeth," he begged.

"Love him?" she repeated with a perplexed look on her face. "L-l-love . . . Jack? You think I love Jack?" she asked incredulously.

"Elizabeth, I saw the way you kissed him," he whispered. In all of his thoughts on how this conversation would go, it had never occurred to him that she would deny it.

"You saw . . ." she repeated again. "Oh! Oh, Will!" she exclaimed. She seemed to suddenly realize something. "You didn't see what you thought you saw, Will."

"I saw you kiss Jack." Actually saying the words hurt more than Will realized they would.

"I did kiss Jack, but it's not what you think. I did something wrong, very . . . very wrong, but . . . not that . . ." her voice suddenly trailed off.

"What are you talking about?" Will asked in confusion.

She looked away from him with a distant expression, as if she were remembering something. A few tears splashed out of her eyes and rolled down her delicate cheeks. "I'm so ashamed, Will . . . I . . ." she struggled for the words.

Will's protective instincts overwhelmed his own pain, and he immediately just wanted to comfort her and wipe her tears away. He tenderly took her hand in his and held it. When he finally got her to look at him, he gave her a soft smile. He was happy to see that Elizabeth couldn't help returning the smile, despite the obvious pain she was in. "It's okay, just tell me," he coaxed.

"I-I trapped Jack, Will. I TRAPPED him there!" she cried out in a sudden outburst. She covered her face for a moment, as if to compose herself. When she lowered her hands, she was able to talk more calmly. "I did kiss Jack, Will. That was wrong enough, and I owe you an apology for that. But, I didn't kiss him because I wanted to. Please know that you are the only person that I have ever really wanted to kiss. I do not and have never loved Jack. But . . ." again she broke off as if the tears were choking off the words in her throat. "I kissed Jack to distract him so that I could lure him to the mast. I chained him to the ship and left him for dead. I . . . I just left him there to save the rest of us. . . . I . . . I left him there."

Relief rushed over Will from hearing that she didn't love Jack. But then, his head processed the implications of what else she had said. Jack hadn't selflessly given himself to the Kraken. Elizabeth had trapped him to save them. "I can't believe you did that, Elizabeth," he whispered slowly. He would have never thought her capable of doing something like that. She had always been a very moral woman. How could she have just left Jack to be eaten?

"I know . . . it's not like me. I . . . I don't know what came over me to make me do that. I was just so scared, and I was trying to come up with a plan to save us, and . . . I . . . just did it." She paused. "I do regret it, and I wish I could take it back, but . . .at the time it seemed the only solution to the problem. F-Forgive me?" her voice cracked.

"Of, of course, I forgive you," he whispered still contemplating what she had done. But, he didn't care. He knew he would forgive her no matter what she did; he would always love her. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she replied. "It's been so hard being separated from you for so long."

Will lowered his knees and leaned into her, wrapped his arms around her, and hugged her close. He had thought that he might never be able to hold her again, and now he had his arms around her. That's all that he needed in this world, her love. Finally alone together, it was mere minutes before they were kissing passionately. Elizabeth's hands began gently roaming up and down Will's back, squeezing him in tight. They separated for a brief moment to catch their breaths.

"I've missed you," she whispered between breaths.

"I've missed you, too," he replied. Despite his exhaustion, the sharp pains in his head, and the lightning fire that shot through his back every time she touched him; Will didn't think he could possibly be any happier than he was right then. Elizabeth pulled on his back to bring him closer, but her fingers hit on the exact wrong spot on Will's back. The welt there burned in pain, and unable to control himself, Will grimaced.

She noticed. Her hands immediately fell, and she quickly asked, "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," he whispered, hoping that she would drop it and go back to holding him. Her withdrawal left him longing to have her arms around him again.

"Are you injured?" she asked with concern.

He knew he couldn't lie to her. But, he didn't want her overly worried about him, either. He was all right. He just needed her love and some rest, and he would be fine. "It's not bad," he assured her.

"Will," she said reproachfully. "You hissed when I touched you. You're hurt. Let me see," she demanded.

"Truly, it is not that bad," he repeated, hoping she wouldn't make him show her. The truth was that he was embarrassed about this particular injury, and didn't really want to talk about how his own father had whipped him. That was such a painful memory. He didn't want to dwell on it.

"Then just let me see, and then I can stop worrying about it and kiss you again."

Will fell silent and stared at the floor again. He worked up the courage to look up at her. His eyes were somehow watery again, and his lip was trembling. He knew she could tell how upset he was, but that did little to convince her that he was all right.

"You let me care for you when we were little. Why is it different now?" she asked. Her voice had softened. She gently raised her hand and brushed his cheek. She was trying to soothe him, the way she had when they were little and he was hurt and scared.

"Okay," he whispered, knowing that he could trust her. He slipped his jacket off. Scrunching his shoulders and pulling on the sleeves further pulled on his back, but he was careful not to show the slightest sign of pain. She must have sensed it though, because she unbuttoned his vest for him and helped him slide out of it. The shirt presented a more difficult problem. On the _Flying Dutchman_, Will had just let the bloody rags hang under his vest, but he had replaced it with a clean shirt on the _Edinburgh Trader_. Will was relatively certain that the cuts had bled more, and that the nice shirt was stuck to the wounds on his back. Lifting the shirt up would rip part of the welts open again, and he wouldn't be able to conceal the pain of that. He decided finally to simply turn around and let her see the blood seeping through the shirt.

"Oh, Will!" she exclaimed.

"It's . . . It's really not that bad," he repeated, wanting to believe that.

"Who whipped you?" she asked, completely in shock.

The simple answer was 'my father,' but Will couldn't just say that. But, he didn't want to lie to her either.

"Not . . . not Lord Beckett," she guessed. "It's illegal to flog a man condemned to death . . . unless, he was planning to pardon you . . ."

"No, nothing like that!" Will quickly interrupted. He realized that he would have to tell her the truth. "On . . . on the _Flying Dutchman_, I made a mistake. Davy Jones had me whipped. He . . . he made my father do it, to punish him as well."

"Oh, Will that must have been so awful for you," she sympathized.

"It, it was," he admitted. "It's sheer torture all the time on that ship, and my father is stuck there for eternity. I have to save him."

"We will, together," she assured him. "But, we have to take care of you first. This is going to hurt, but I need to pull the shirt out of the wounds. It will never heal properly if I don't." It hurt as much as Will had expected. Each jerk of the shirt felt like the whip was ripping his flesh open again. He tried not to physically acknowledge the pain, but after a few yanks, he was whimpering softly with each pull. "I'm sorry. I know that really hurt," Elizabeth commented as she was finally able to pull the shirt over her fiancé's head.

"It's all right," he whispered, trying to restore his brave front. It didn't last for long, though. Elizabeth gently ran her fingers along the edges of the lash marks. Her hands felt cool and comforting, but even the tiniest pressure at some of the wounds left him wincing in pain.

"Will, this is bad," she whispered ominously.

"It's only 5 strokes," he explained. "And, they were applied as softly as my father dared."

"Still, it's bad. These two," Elizabeth softly touched the most painful spots, "are swollen, extremely red, and hot to touch. You know as well as I do what that means. I've seen men lose an arm to lesser cuts. And, none of them are healing properly. You need rest, and I pray a poultice will help heal the inflammation in the worst ones."

"Elizabeth, I can't be seen as weak by the crew, or Barbossa."

"I understand," she said. "But, Will, you have to give these welts a chance to heal. And, we have to do something before the heat and swelling spreads across your whole back.

Will sighed. He had hoped that the whip marks were healing despite the pain, that if he just kept pushing himself eventually the pain would go away on its own. If the wounds were as bad as Elizabeth described, she was right, they would only get worse without treatment. He couldn't just let them go any longer, but he had to hide the problem from the crew. If they knew how injured he was, they wouldn't let him go on the voyage to save Jack.

Elizabeth suggested a plan. "Let me go make a poultice. Tia can help me. I think we can trust her, and I won't have to tell her the exact nature of the injury. I won't say a word to anyone in the crew, no one need know. I am, however, going to persuade the crew we need an extra day before we take off. I'll say it's for planning; they'll believe me. It's not a bad idea for all of us to have a day of rest anyway. If you spend a day lying still and not continually ripping open the cuts, they should start to heal. I'll let you work as normal once we take off, but you'll have to sleep with a poultice every night until that swelling goes down. The men will probably let me have a cabin on the new ship. You can stay with me so that I can be sure you get your rest at night."

Will consented to the plan. Elizabeth gave him a short kiss before going to work on the poultice. Alone, Will tried to remain sitting up and waiting for her. The stabbing pains in his head were bothering him again, and it was not long before the room started to spin again. Will slumped over, willing the dizziness to pass. He wanted to cheerily greet her when she came back up, but his body was fighting against him too hard. Still tired and sore, Will finally gave up and cautiously rolled back onto his stomach. He realized that if any of the crew were to come up at that time, they would see his whip marks fully on display, but he didn't have the energy to sit up any longer. It seemed to him that Elizabeth was gone quite a long time. That left him with a wandering mind. He had his Elizabeth back; she loved him. That was good. But, their predicament was still grave. They were both still condemned to the hangman's noose. He had been unable to obtain the compass to earn their pardon. His father was still trapped in Hell on the _Flying Dutchman, _and without the heart he had no hope of ever being released. Will tried to begin formulating a plan that would rectify both situations, but both his headache and exhaustion prevented him from having any real coherent thoughts.

Finally, he heard footsteps behind him. He prayed they were Elizabeth's and not another member of the crew. Will was certain that anyone else would have a good laugh if they saw the state of his back.

"Hold still," she whispered before placing a cold wet compress on his back. "There, that should help," she said as she smoothed the edges flat. She kindly draped Will's jacket over him to cover him and the poultice. Then, to Will's surprise she lay down next to him on the mat and gently wrapped her arm around his waist. He gave her a questioning glance. "What?" she asked innocently. "Don't you want me to sleep next to you?"

"Not exactly proper is it?" he asked jokingly.

"When have we ever cared about what's proper when it comes to the two of us? Besides, I have to be here to keep an eye on you tonight."

Will closed his eyes and for the first time in days fell into a restful sleep, content to be with the woman he loved.


End file.
